


(Fall)ing In Love With Autumn (& You)

by alisvolatpropiis



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Autumn, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, puppy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-16 18:46:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16500749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alisvolatpropiis/pseuds/alisvolatpropiis
Summary: Just some fluffy Fall sweetness for y'all!From a prompt on Tumblr: "i wanted to really embrace the fall spirit so i raked my leaves into a big pile and have been jumping around in it for ages and your moving truck just pulled up beside my house, so hi i’m your new not-weird neighbour.”





	(Fall)ing In Love With Autumn (& You)

**Author's Note:**

> Just some fluffy Fall sweetness for y'all! 
> 
> From a prompt on Tumblr: "i wanted to really embrace the fall spirit so i raked my leaves into a big pile and have been jumping around in it for ages and your moving truck just pulled up beside my house, so hi i’m your new not-weird neighbour.”

Really, it’s Princess Leia’s fault.

Stiles has been doing an admirable job of fighting the urge to dive headfirst into the massive pile of leaves that he’d laboriously been raking all afternoon. It’s a mighty urge, and he was battling it by reminding himself that he’s an _adult dammit,_ and still kinda new to this neighborhood and he doesn’t need his neighbors knowing just how much of a weirdo he is really is, no matter how much of the Fall spirit he’s taken with.

He moved to Vermont just a few months ago for graduate school, and, having spent his entire life in southern California – the land of eternal summer – he finds himself utterly charmed and bewitched by Autumn. Sweater-hat-and-scarf weather, steaming mugs of spiced cider and mulled wine, flickering fires in the wood stove of his small house, the cool tendrils of his breath on the chilled air during his morning walks to campus: he takes it all in and relishes the beauty and coziness that transforms and enchants everything around him. And the leaves, of course. All the photographs and idyllic scenes from movies can’t compare with the reality of them, with the absolute riot of color that transformed the landscape from soil to sky just as September faded. It’s late October now, and each new Autumn day brings novel delights for Stiles to marvel.

He’s so enamored with it that he doesn’t even care that it brings a chore he’s never had to do before: raking leaves. The small cottage-style house that he rents has a large front yard dotted by Maple, Aspen, and Black Tupelo trees, and even one glorious Sourwood. He’s spent almost every evening this past month bundled up on the porch with Princess Leia, the yellow Labrador puppy he adopted from the humane society, a mug of spiked mulled cider steaming in his hands, the two of them watching the marvelous array of sunset-colored leaves drift and fall from their branches to land on his lawn.

He’s heard the locals and people who’ve lived here for a while grumble about raking leaves, but to Stiles, it’s still a grand, novel adventure. He excitedly purchased a rake and work gloves from the local hardware store, and his neighbor, Laura, gave him a bunch of bags and told him she would take the leaves for her compost pile. And sure, a bit of the novelty wore off as he toiled on, getting a blister on his palm despite the gloves and slipping and falling on wet leaves more than once. But he loved every cold, wet – and then sweaty – second of it, immensely proud when he finally has a damp, ember-hued pile that’s the size of a small car.

And then, while looking down at his accomplishment with satisfaction before grabbing the empty bags, he’s struck by the powerful urge to jump into the pile. Leap, faceplant, toss and roll and kick and jump in the mess of leaves to make up for a childhood denied of such a delightful whimsy by the cruel California sun. Like every other new treat the season has presented, Stiles is dying to experience it. But for the first time since his foray into everything Fall, Stiles had stopped himself from indulging. Mulled wine and decorative gourds are one thing, but frolicking through the pile of leaves he just raked, in full view of the neighbors, just might be too much for a whole-ass adult such as he.

But then – Leia, who had been wandering around the yard as he raked, suddenly bounds over to him from across the yard, golden ears and jowls flapping, eyes bright and excited, and with the awkward grace only a one-year-old puppy can manage, leaps right the middle of the pile. The leaves crash and rustle as she nuzzles down farther into the pile, and Stiles can’t help but laugh as he watches her roll on to her back and wiggle down into them, clearly having the time of her life. She pauses for the briefest of seconds to look up at him, one puppy-eyebrow crooked up, as if to say _well, aren’t you going to join me?_

And since only a monster could resist such a face, Stiles, of course, joins his puppy in the leaf pile. The second he does, all of his worries about looking idiotic in front of the neighbors disappear as he gives in to the pure joy of falling into the soft crunch of the leaves, the thick scent of fresh damp earth rich in his nostrils. Leia yelps with glee and pops up from under the pile, the stem of a red-gold leaf dangling from her mouth, and pounces on his chest. Her puppy strength makes the air push from his chest in an _oof_ that makes him smile even more.

There’s just enough chill to the evening air that he can see his breath, and he’s positively delighted by it. He rolls and tosses handfuls of leaves in the air for Leia to bite, then wrestles with her until a squirrel appears on the fence across the yard and she takes off toward it, barking.

Laughing at the fact that his dog seems to have inherited his ADHD, and still thoroughly enjoying himself, Stiles keeps on with his leaf tumble. After a few more rolls he pops to his feet and gives kicking the leaves a try, finding that to be even more fun.

He’s so caught up in his glee and revelry that he doesn’t notice the truck hauling a moving trailer pull into Laura’s driveway. Who knows how long he’s been kicking away to his heart’s content when he finally turns and sees the driver of the truck standing next to it, watching him with a slightly bemused, but mostly concerned, expression on his incredibly handsome face.

Stiles stops mid-kick. A crunchy yellow leaf catches on his hair and dangles in front of his eye, partially obscuring his view of his observer – which somehow both eases and worsens the powerful flush of embarrassment that courses through him.

And – _oh no_ – he’s so very, very hot. Tall and broad-shouldered, a shock of raven-black hair and a beard to match, and even from a distance, Stiles can see that his eyes are truly something to behold. He looks like Laura, Stiles realizes, and then he remembers her mentioning that her recently-divorced brother was moving in. She did not mention, however, that said brother looks like a damn supermodel.

Face starting to burn, Stiles rights himself, dropping his leg and blowing the leaf from his hair with a huff. “Hey there,” he says, clearing his throat and waving awkwardly, then gestures toward the destroyed pile of leaves. “Just uh, really getting into the Fall spirit, ya know?”

Laura’s brother, just keeps looking at him with that confused look on his face, his dark and heavy eyebrows so damn expressive that, even across the yard, Stiles can see plain as day that he thinks he’s a total nutjob. After a moment, he just nods stiffly and turns away toward the house. Released from Hot New Neighbor’s gaze, Stiles abandons the rake and the leaves and makes a beeline for the house, Leia eager on his heels and oblivious to his embarrassment.

ð ð ð

The passage of several hours and a few mugs of whiskey-spiked cider helps ease the sting of embarrassment a bit, but Stiles still can’t help but mentally replay the moment and cringe occasionally as he tries to distract himself with Netflix.

Even though he had only seen Laura’s brother for a minute, he’d been so immediately and viscerally attracted to him he could _feel_ his crush explode into existence. He’s famous amongst his friends for developing instantly pitiful crushes for people who’d never be interested in him as anything more than a friend, and it was obvious to him from the second his new neighbor stepped out of his truck that he was the next object of that unrequited affection and attraction.

So _of course_ that meant he had to be looking his most ridiculous, his most childishly absurd and probably a little crazy, judging by the expression on Hot New Neighbor’s stupidly gorgeous face. Because the universe hates him and conspires to thwart his romantic happiness at every turn, he decides, pouting even more.

With a sudden yip, Leia jumps up from where she’s been snoring next to him on the couch, the jolt sending a splash of cider-flavored whiskey from the mug and onto his lap. He swears as she leaps over the back of the couch, jolting him _again_ , but before he can mope anew over this latest offense from the universe, there’s a loud knock on the front door.

Leia yips again, all excitement and no threat. Brushing the spilled whiskey from his pants, Stiles shuffles to the door and pulls it open with a distracted huff.

For a second, he’s sure it’s his imagination. He must have passed out on the couch, has got to be sprawled out with The Great British Baking Show blaring from the TV and Leia licking cider from his fingers. What he’s seeing has to be a dream, because there’s absolutely no way Hot New Neighbor is _actually_ standing at his door, looking more beautiful in a flannel coat than any human has the right to, smiling gently and holding a steaming apple pie. He’s wearing a red-and-black-checked flannel coat, and the sun is setting just behind him, casting him in a gilded autumn glow that looks downright magical.

“Hi,” Hot New Neighbor says, breaking Stiles’ reverie.

It forces him to realize that he’s still awake and that this is, in fact, happening. He snaps his mouth shut and swallows hard before answering. "Hi," he manages to get out.

“I’m Derek, Laura’s brother. I just moved in. I, uh, saw you outside earlier?”

“Derek, hey. I’m Stiles.” He offers a handshake, wincing slightly at the reminder of his foolishness. Derek deftly balances the pie on one hand to accept the handshake. His hand is big and warm and grips Stiles’ firmly, and he feels exhilarated by the touch. “Welcome to the neighborhood,” he adds, feeling silly as he says it. Laura has lived here for years, and surely Derek has been visiting her long before Stiles moved next door.

But Derek doesn’t seem to notice or care, because he smiles, and Stiles finally understands what it means to be struck weak in the knees. “Thank you.”

Somehow, Stiles still has the wherewithal to function. A heroic effort, given the spellbinding beauty and charm of that smile, nestled in the sculpted thicket of his beard. Not to mention his eyes, which Stiles can now see are the most uncanny combination of jade-green and gold, made all the more striking by the sharp contrast between them and his inky black lashes. “Would you like to come in?”

Derek’s smile goes even wider, and Stiles’ knees go even weaker. With a duck of his chin and a flutter of lashes that is just too goddamn adorable, he nods and steps inside. Leia, who had been watching them curiously, leaps with to greet him joyfully, and Stiles takes the still-warm pie from his hands so he can return the greeting with equal enthusiasm.

“This, uh, looks and smells incredible,” Stiles tells him, inhaling the sweet-cinnamon perfection of the pie. It feels and smells like he’s holding autumn in his hands.

“I hope it’s good,” Derek says, straightening up from petting Leia. “It’s the first apple pie I’ve made this season,” he explains.

“You made this? For me?”

Derek shrugs. “Laura went apple-picking yesterday, and I love to bake.”

“That’s awesome…but for me? You baked this for me?” Stiles is pretty sure he sounds like an idiot, but he can’t quite compute the fact that this tall-dark-and-handsome-lumberjack-looking motherfucker _made him an apple pie_.

Derek looks down with a flutter of his eyelashes again and rubs the back of his neck, nodding. “I made it for you. I wanted to apologize.”

Now Stiles is even more confounded. “Apologize?”

"Yeah, I uh, felt bad about before, when I drove in. It was rude of me to stare at you the way I did. I'm sorry about that. I should have introduced myself."

“Oh dude, no worries at all. I was the one acting like a nutjob. _I_ should apologize for...whatever that was.”

“No, you shouldn’t. Really, I shouldn’t have reacted that way.” Derek sighs. “Laura told me I should explain myself.” He pauses again, as if trying to choose his words carefully, or maybe get up the nerve to say something. “But we should have some pie while it’s still warm.”

It’s obvious to him now that Derek is nervous and trying to buy some time. “Brilliant idea,” Stiles answers in his best Paul Hollywood voice. “Let’s see if it’s a good bake.”

Derek’s laugh is a revelation. Smiling, Stiles leads him to the kitchen. Leia trots between them, her focus steadfastly on the pie now. He gestures for Derek to take a seat at the kitchen table and goes to retrieve plates and a knife.

“So, uh,” Derek begins. “I don’t know how much Laura told you, but uh, the last few years haven’t been all that great for me. Not a lot of happiness, you know?”

Stiles makes a noise small noise of encouraging sympathy as he hands him a mug of cider and the bottle of whiskey. Derek smiles softly and accepts both gratefully.

“When I was driving here,” he continues, pouring a generous shot into the mug. “I was thinking about starting over…turning over a new leaf, if you will.”

They both laugh at that. “And then I pulled in and saw you, playing in the leaves, and you looked like you were so full of… _joy_ , and it just kinda hit me, you know? How much I’ve missed that kind of happiness.”

With skill he didn’t know he possessed, Stiles manages to slice to pieces of pie and get them onto the plates. He digs a can of whipped cream from the fridge and brings it all to the table, equal parts thrilled to try the amazing-smelling-and-looking pie and eager to hear more of anything Derek has to say.

“Well, I’m very glad I was acting like a fool when you arrived then.” Stiles realizes that his heart is fluttering and his cheeks feel warm in a way that has nothing to do with the whiskey. He focuses intently on taking a bite of pie, which is, as expected, amazing, so much so that he makes a downright lewd noise of pleasure as swallows the first bite and shoves another into his mouth.

Derek’s eyes go big as he watches him, and then he ducks his chin down again and takes a bite of his own, nodding in agreement at its deliciousness. “And uh, since I’m being honest,” he continues, taking a deep breath, “I was also a bit stunned by how attractive you were. Are. By how attractive you are.”

Stiles surprises himself again by playing it remarkably cool, calmly taking another too-big bite of pie while mentally _freaking the fuck out_ because the most beautiful man in the world just admitted to being into him.

“So,” he says, fake-casually, “you were staring at me like that because you _liked_ me?”

Derek smiles. “Laura says my default expression is angry confusion, so….” he shrugs.

“Very attractive angry confusion,” Stiles grins, and so does Derek, and good goddamn, he could get used to this.

“So,” Derek says after another minute of silence filled with furtive glances and shy smiles, “since you’re so into the Fall spirit, I was thinking…there’s a pumpkin patch not too far from here, just a few miles up Highway 32. They’ve got a corn maze and hayrides and all that.”

“Harvey’s Harvest Bonanza? I’ve been wanting to go, but I haven’t had anyone to go with.”

“Do you want to go with me? We can get pumpkins to carve and roast the seeds.”

Stiles can’t hide his excitement anymore. “Dude, I would _love_ to do that.” He would have said yes to pretty much anything Derek asked, but a romantic fall date to a pumpkin patch? Stiles is swooning – and then he’s struck with an idea, and jumps up from his chair. “Let’s go, outside,” he says offering Derek a hand.

“Outside?”

“Yep, outside. You liked seeing the happiness of playing in the leaves? Now you get to play. Come on, Derek. Lean into the fall spirit. _Fall_ into it, if you will,” he winks.

With a laugh and shake of his head, Derek stands and takes his hand. “ _Leaf_ the way then.”

ð ð ð 

Later, as the last glow of Autumn sunlight fades into twilight and the leaves are scattered across the yard once again, Derek pulls him into the sweetest, most gentle of kisses. Princess Leia nips at their feet for a second, and then returns to her leaf-chasing, as if to say _my work here is done_.

As Stiles lets himself drown in the perfection of Derek’s mouth, he reminds himself to thank her for helping him _fall_ in love.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! [Come hang out on Tumblr!](http://doctortay.tumblr.com/)


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